


A rosy glow

by Serooks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serooks/pseuds/Serooks
Summary: blush : a sudden reddening of the face from embarrassment, shame, modesty, guilt or ... ?





	A rosy glow

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I wanted to write something about John and Sherlock. I was always afraid because this show is very important to me. And I was scared of how complex Sherlock is. I wanted to stay true to him.  
> Finally I decided that I will write them without putting myself too much pressure and this sweet one shot came. 
> 
> I am fascinated by people reactions and gestures. Blushing has always been something I personally knew as a shy kid, and now an anxious and introverted adult. Strangely I also find it beautiful. And very revealing.
> 
> Have a nice read !
> 
> (If you see any mistakes, please let me know ! English is not my first language.)

John was typing his last blog article sitting at the living room desk while Sherlock was doing … something lying down on the couch. He had his thinking face and John presume that he was once again in his mind palace, probably cleaning it after resolving their last case. 

John stopped mid sentence and remembered that he couldn’t put his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend name in his article. She was very clear about it. She had played a minor part in the case, mostly because she was just here at the right time, but she didn’t want any credit. John could understand that. He also understood when she said that she liked him, but she couldn’t be with a man who could one second vanish for a case, for a state secret or .. for Sherlock. She had said that last thing with a smile and that little smirk still bothered John. Even two days after it. 

-So why didn’t you like her ? John blurted, his mind still focusing on his ex-girlfriend.

The moment, Erin, had stepped into their flat, Sherlock had been unpleasant. It wasn’t really Sherlock’s behaviours that surprised John, but more how quickly he had lost his temper. It had been a while since John had brought a new girlfriend, and he had believed that Sherlock social skills, especially with strangers, had become better. But he was wrong. John saw Erin a few times before the case when she managed to stop the murderer by throwing a bedside lamp at him. It was luck surely, but also very quick reflex. Yet, Sherlock haven’t even thanked her and instead got mad because she put the guy unconscious. 

Sherlock sat down at John’s question, but he didn’t answer. John thought that maybe he hadn’t been clear enough. He was, asking this abruptly, without even giving Erin’s name. He was about to ask again when Sherlock stood up, then sat in front of John, at the desk.

-Why do you ask ?

-I’m just curious … I would like to know why you seem to hate everyone you meet.

Sherlock seemed genuinely confused by the answer, which John could deduce from the way his eyebrows frowned. 

-I don’t … hate everyone.

John stopped looking at his laptop and raised an eyebrow.

-I don’t hate you.

John smirked and decided that this conversation was more interesting that his blog.

\- So why do you hate everyone except me ?

-Numerous reasons. Why aren’t you asking them the same question ?

-Which question ?

-Why everyone hates me ?

John remained silent for a moment, staring at Sherlock. Strangely, there was no pain or sadness on his face. Or he was very good at hiding it. He was waiting, curiously, John’s answer.  
-Oh, not everybody hates you.

Sherlock made a face which seemed to say « I know what people think of me, John ».  
John stayed silent, then the obvious answer came into his mind.

-I don’t hate you.

A second passed, and then … Sherlock smiled. Except that smile seemed different, but John couldn’t quite figure out why. It was only when Sherlock stood up to pick something from his room that John realised what was different about this smile. Sherlock didn’t just smiled, he also blushed. 

One week after, it happened again. 

John was sleeping. The flat was silent. Sherlock had left a bit earlier that evening, excited for a potentially new case, and John had fallen asleep in his armchair waiting for him.  
A few steps and then a door opening loudly woke John up. He looked around, quick on his leg, but it was only Sherlock. Sherlock who looked like a complete mess. His usual cloak was so dirty that it almost changed colour. Sherlock was panting, quite loudly. He collapsed on his armchair, looking away from John’s glaze. 

-Sherlock. Are you alright ?

-Splendid.

Sherlock looked up before closing his eyes, letting his head lie down on the armchair.

John looked at him, waiting for an explanation when suddenly he saw something on Sherlock’s face that made his blood cold. Blood. Sherlock was bleeding, and it looked like it came from an injury on his scalp. John immediately came next to Sherlock, whose eyes where still closed, and he carefully brushed Sherlock’s hair to see where the blood was coming from. 

-What are you doing ? Asked Sherlock bluntly, his eyes wide open and his hand on John’s. 

-You’re bleeding Sherlock.

John looked at Sherlock’s face and that’s when he saw it again. A blush had formed on Sherlock’s face. Only this time he wasn’t smiling.

-I’m fine.

Sherlock pushed John’s hand away and gave him a stare. John was still crouching next to him, confused. 

-No, you’re not. This could be very bad. What happened ?

-I got into a fight.

-What ? Why ?

Sherlock looked down at John before rolling his eyes.

-It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. I’ll go to bed.

Sherlock was standing up when John with a strong grip, forced him to sit down again.

-No, you’re not. Not before I’m sure this isn’t serious. 

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Sherlock gave up, which seriously surprised John. John went to get his first aid kit. He then pulled a chair next to Sherlock’s armchair, and his first aid kit on his laps, he cautiously started to look for the wound again. Sherlock had his eyes closed, but his breathing was much quieter. John ran his hand through Sherlock’s smooth black hair before finally founding the wound. He let out a loud sigh when he realised it wasn’t bad. He cleaned up the wound and put some antiseptic on it. Once he was done, he noticed that Sherlock was asleep. John smiled to himself before putting everything in place again. He gently put one of the couch’s blanket on Sherlock before going to his room. He felt very tired and fell asleep very quickly. 

He woke up in horror, tears in his eyes, a few hours after. He had had a bad dream. A bloody nightmare. Sherlock had died. Everything was fuzzy and he couldn’t quite remember why and how it happened. Yet, John could still feel very vividly his heart wrenching. He stood up and he immediately went downstairs, almost running. Sherlock was still here, eyes closed and slowly breathing.  
John sat across him, and watched him for a while. He wasn’t tired anymore. He spent the remaining hours of the night watching over his best friend, making sure that he was still here. Alive. 

Sherlock finally woke up, one hour after the sun rose. John was in the kitchen, making himself breakfast. He was relieved that Sherlock didn’t wake up under his stare. John wasn’t himself sure why, but he didn’t want Sherlock to know that he had creepily watched him for hours. 

John came back with a cup of coffee in his hand and some pancakes. It was luck that they had enough ingredients to make something eatable. He surely had to thank Mrs Hudson for that.

He looked at Sherlock who was still staring at the ceiling. John was shifting awkwardly in his seat, not knowing what to say. While his nightmares memories were gone, he could still remember the feelings. He was craving for Sherlock to say anything just to have the complete confirmation that he was real, and here, and alive.

-Pancakes ?

John almost choked on his coffee when Sherlock talked. He pulled himself together and smiled.

-Yes. I was awake early.

Sherlock stern gaze had now left the ceiling to focus on his new prey. John knew he was being analyzed by a still messy looking Sherlock. 

-I’m really fine, John.

John made an half smile, knowing well enough that Sherlock had read concern on his face.

-I know. 

-What is it with the face, then ?

-What do you mean the face ? Something’s wrong with my face ?

John put down his cup of coffee and leaned toward Sherlock. 

-That’s not what I meant. You have a perfectly normal and nice looking face. But you have a worry look. 

This time it happened to John. He could not see himself, but he was one hundred percent sure that he had just blushed. It was stupid of him because Sherlock had certainly not meant that as a compliment, yet it was so unexpected and kind. John cleared his throat nervously.

-I’m maybe a bit concerned about the fact that you came back last night looking like a mess.

-Come on John. Nothing that a good shower can’t fix.

Sherlock stood up and left the room in no time at all. 

John tried, and failed, to forget why he had reacted that way to Sherlock’s words. He finally decided to put this on his surprise even though deep down, he knew he was lying to himself. 

A few days later, they were coming back from Scotland Yard after being informed about a possible new case. Sherlock was clearly excited. Cases were coming very often recently and while this was nice it also brought some downside. The press was craving more and more juicy news about the mysterious Sherlock Holmes and John’s blog wasn’t enough.  
Suddenly something seemed to shift and John saw that Sherlock had stopped smiling, and was staring right in front of him, his jaw clenched. John followed his look and saw a big group of journalists in front of their place. He couldn’t even see the door anymore. The taxi stopped because of the press and John was waiting for Sherlock to move. The journalists seemed to be focused on someone else, a woman standing at the front door. John tried to see who it was, but he could only see the top of her head. Suddenly Sherlock opened the door and John followed, quickly. Sherlock started walking in the opposite way of their flat. It took John a second before realizing that his friend was already long gone. 

-Sherlock, wait !

The moment his word came out of his mouth, he regretted it. Some journalists heard him and quickly everyone was looking in his direction. He started to run, trying to catch up on Sherlock. He couldn’t see the detective, but he knew which direction he took. The journalists were now running after him, screaming questions and taking photos. This was starting to get ridiculous.  
A firm grip caught him suddenly and pulled him into some random house. The door closed, John’s back pressured against it, a hand gripping his right wrist and Sherlock’s beautiful face in front of him.

-Wh-

Sherlock shut him up with a stare and they both waited like that for a moment. John’s heart was beating so fast and he couldn’t look anywhere else that at Sherlock’s, too close, face. Sherlock was frowning looking at the door, probably waiting to know when they would be free to go. John then realised that Sherlock hand was now gently holding his hand, his thumb stroking John’s skin. And then it happened once again. This innocent gesture made John blush and he was trying to conceal it, but Sherlock wasn’t stopping and now John was focusing on how close Sherlock’s lips were and how he could just kiss him, now.  
His fantasy was broken when Sherlock moved away from him, and opened the door. He didn’t let go of John’s hand. They went home, in silence and it’s only when Mrs. Hudson caught them in the hallway that the warmth of Sherlock’s hand disappeared. 

It was the middle of the night when John woke up suddenly not knowing why. He brushed a hand through his hair and felt the urge to pee. He silently went downstairs to the bathroom. He was washing his hands, his eyes closing themselves when he suddenly heard a scream. He froze in terror before his reflex kicked in. He left the bathroom in a hurry and not bothering knocking, he stormed inside Sherlock’s room. 

Sherlock was in his bed sitting, breathing loudly and his head in his hands. John came to his side and sat at the edge of the bed, not wanting to invade his privacy. Yet, he couldn’t stay away when the man he cared so much about, was clearly in a bad state. He wanted to hug him, or talk, but he was afraid to do or say the wrong thing. 

-Sherlock ? He murmured softly. 

The man didn’t move and he was still looking terrified. John too anxious, moved forward and took him in his arms. 

-It’s okay, Sherlock. 

He felt the man tense before relaxing and letting out a long breath. Sherlock arms slowly went to hug John back. They stayed like that for a while, in a silent dark room, letting their embrace talk. 

When Sherlock released him, John immediately missed his arms around him. He didn’t say anything and only looked at Sherlock who had his eyes closed. He wasn’t sleeping, but John knew that he was in deep thoughts. When he opened his eyes, he had a very different look. 

-Would you mind staying a bit ? 

John stood still, surprised by Sherlock’s question and how hesitant he sounded. 

-Of course not. 

John went around the bed and sat down next to Sherlock. He put a pillow behind his back and rested his head against the wall. Sherlock had lied down again and he was watching John with an intense look. John smiled at him and saw Sherlock’s right hand patting nervously the sheets. With a gentle smile he took Sherlock hands in his and he began to stroke it with his thumb. Sherlock was still looking at him like he was memorizing every part of his appearance. 

John fell asleep and when he woke up, he was still holding Sherlock’s hand. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand and grumble because of his hurting back. A beam of light was coming in the room and Sherlock was still looking at him with a softer look. John smiled at him. John waking up made Sherlock move and he was suddenly sitting in front of John, never letting his hand go. Sherlock was really close now and John was really awake now. Sherlock’s eyes were unable to decide between John’s eyes and his lips. A problem that John was facing too. 

-May I ?

John wasn’t sure what Sherlock was asking, but he still nodded, trusting the man in front of him.

Sherlock came nearer and nearer and nearer until his lips were on John’s. It was soft and shy, but it made John smiled. He kissed him back trying to be gentle even if he was burning inside with passion. Sherlock slowly moved away, a big smile on his face. John smiled too and realised that it was happening again. 

Sherlock was blushing and he knew he was too.


End file.
